Luke 17:11–19 Jesus heals those who have Leprosy
He probably had one of those strange-sounding Samaritan names and once that would have mattered, but it didn't any more. By now, they had all come to accept that the disease they had in common outweighed anything else placed on the balance. To be truthful, everything else piled together on the scale could not budge the heaviness of their condition and the lifestyle it imposed upon them. Besides, by now, no one could tell he was a Samaritan from his features or the color of his skin. Leprosy had effectively destroyed all of those barriers.
They were outcasts together, required by law to live in designated areas away from the community (Numbers 5:2-3), to warn people that the were coming whenever they went out for something (Leviticus 13: 45-46). Being unclean meant no contact with loved ones, no participation with God's people in worship and prayer. Consequently, they had formed their own group, moved together, spoke together, acted as one unit. It wasn't much, but it was all they had, these men without nationality, without family, without friends, without faces.
Until that day when the healer came. They were fortunate that he came that direction at all, really, traveling the borderland between Judea and Samaria, going to the Passover in Jerusalem. He might have gone another way, but he didn't. They didn't dare approach him, but called out very loudly from an appropriate distance, as with one voice, sharing one hope, Mercy! Pity us! Help us! Called out those familiar words, words that others usually ignored, but this one turned and saw them.
He
didn’t see them like most people did, though. If they weren’t being
shunned or avoided, they got the look. You know, ‘I’m keeping an eye on
you.’ Not ‘I see you, I value you, I’m drawn to you because of your
pain and struggle.’ Jesus sees them and responds differently.
And
then… he sends them to the priests, Go…. Says it with such a tone
that they all go. All of them, obey him despite that their situation
was still impossible; they were not healed, so what could the priest do
but turn them away? Still… and on the way, they were cured, cleansed!
All 10 received the miracle they had longed for. So they went on,
straight to the priest, just as he had told them to. Glad day!
In
all their gladness and all the commotion, I wonder if anyone noticed that the Samaritan had turned back. He who had grown accustomed to
speaking in unison with them now was speaking in his own voice.
Although still calling out loudly, he had new words. Words of praise.
He eagerly closed the distance between himself and the healer. He fell
at his feet. His feet. That close! The Samaritan differentiated
himself from the old group and made the personal choice to show himself
to the healer as if the healer were the only priest he needed, the one
who restored him to God and others.
The disappointing part of
this story is that 9 were evidently satisfied with their physical cure.
Realistically, all they had wanted was their lives back. To pick up
where they left off. To get back on their feet again.
They may
have been ecstatic at the moment when it dawned on them. Amazed to
look at each other, to look down at the skin on their arms and legs and
see the change! They may have whooped it up! Ran to the priests to
make it official, ran to their homes and loved ones waving those arms.
Look at this! They may have made a big deal over the gift they
received; we don’t know. But they definitely did not make a big deal
over the Giver.
This Samaritan had been an outsider long before
he got leprosy. The other 9 had once belonged in this community. They
were going back to the sweet content of acceptance. The 9 were
thankful for, not thankful to.
But the bible
calls us to another level, to be thankful TO. To see through the gifts
to the giver of all good things. To marvel at the beauty and precision
of creation and be grateful to such an amazing creator.
It’s
the difference between: “I’m glad I got my life back” and “I owe you my
life!” It’s tricky. We all make lists of things we’re thankful for.
Sincerely. And that’s good and right. But if all of those things were
suddenly gone, would we still be thankful? That’s the question Satan
poses at the beginning of the book of Job, you know: “Does Job fear God
for nothing?”
Maybe we think we don’t know anyone who has
leprosy. I recently learned a new term. “Othering.” It’s about seeing
the world as us-versus-them. It’s a social illness in our world today.
And I’m not borrowing that word “illness” just to connect with
the text. A few months ago, in an 81 page research document, US
Surgeon General, Vivek Murthy declared “widespread loneliness in the
United States the latest public health pandemic…According to Murthy,
healthcare experts have concrete proof that loneliness impacts a
significant part of the U.S. population, causing sensations akin to
hunger and thirst. He defines loneliness as ‘The feeling the body sends
us when something we need for survival is missing.’… And we will
continue to splinter and divide until we can no longer stand as a
community or a country. Instead of coming together to take on the great
challenges, we will retreat to our corners – angry, sick, and alone.’”
(https://jacksonadvocateonline.com/u-s-surgeon-general-warns-of-high-cost-of-loneliness/)
Othering. It’s about fitting in at the expense of labeling
others as outsiders. Othering is one way to meet our need to belong.
11 The
Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not
like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax
collector. (Luke 18:11)
But it’s not the only way. When a
woman who is routinely cast out, finds hope in Jesus and washes his feet
in gratitude, he honors her choice.
47 Therefore, I tell you,
her many sins have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But
the one to whom little is forgiven loves little.” (Luke 7:47)
That’s
the key. Remembering what it feels like to be an outsider clears the
way for a different choice, to live in gratitude. The difference
between the 9 and this one is that when he sees that he is healed, he
exclaims, “God!”
This is about all the things we say we believe
in, you know: worship, expressing our gratitude for forgiveness by
loving others. That’s the best part about being seen and included.
It’s such a relief and you feel so grateful to God.
So, how are we
doing? It’s a familiar passage. Predictable. So perhaps as we heard it
again, we immediately saw them, the 9, as those “ungrateful ones.” If
so, then we’ve still got some distance to go on that road with Jesus
yet. Because we’ve read that label into the text. It’s not there.
In
fact, the text points us in the other direction. We are told that
Jesus travels to Jerusalem along the border between Judea and Samaria.
He didn’t have to go that way. Most Jews who made the pilgrimage
avoided it, going through the Jordan Valley instead and they would have
taken note of this.
(https://www.biblewhere.com/jesus-travels-routes/)
In other
words, Jesus walks along the dividing line between them and their
neighbors. Along the lines that divide us. Jesus reclaims the word
“other.” He doesn’t condemn the 9. There are no words of judgment
here. To Jesus, while there’s time, “others” are those who have not
come back yet. And he stands there on the border between them and us,
looking down the road for them.
Where are the others? Love God, Love others.
